


Hate Sex, Love

by Graendoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hate Sex, One Shot, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 16:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16998186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graendoll/pseuds/Graendoll
Summary: Something's wrong with Draco. He's smiling.





	Hate Sex, Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Dramione fic ever. I'm bad at angst so...enjoy the porn!
> 
> Also I know JK has strong opinions so I don't own any of these characters, blah blah blah.

Hermione moved through the crush of bodies in an effort to get to the bar. The pub was packed with rowdy sports fans, all thirsty after spending the last two hours cheering for their team in the last Quidditch match of the season. 

She’d been dragged here with Ginny and Harry in a show of solidarity for Ron and his local Quidditch club. It had been their team that had gone to the finals and even though they had lost, it had been a close game. In fact, it had been tied until the other team’s seeker had gotten lucky and nabbed the snitch. The rivalry was a friendly one, however, so supporters of both teams were happily imbibing in the small pub, singing songs and generally making nuisances of themselves.

As Hermione was jostled between the pub’s drunken clientele, she finally made her way to the bar and leaned an elbow heavily on the well-aged wood, taking up as much space as she could, while attempting to flag the barkeep down with the other hand. She received a nod and lowered her arm to wait for her turn, then twisted in an effort to create some more room for herself when she felt a warm body press up against the entirety of her left side.

“Excuse me.”

“I’m not sure there’s an excuse for you, Granger.” The cultured voice rumbled alarmingly close to her ear and she jolted. Her alarm increased when she felt him lean into her fully, planting a hand on either side of her and pressing her into the bar.

“Kindly remove yourself from my person, Malfoy.”

“No can do, love. It’s my turn to buy a round, you see, and this is prime bar real estate.”

Hermione planted her hands on the bar and pushed, attempting to move him away from her, but her plan backfired and instead she found herself plastered up against him from thigh to shoulder as he retaliated by pushing back until her hips hit the bar.

“Let me go you bully.”

“Is that the worst you’ve got? Come now, Granger, surely you can come up with something more scathing than that.”

She turned and looked over her shoulder, prepared to rip into him, but his expression gave her pause. He was smiling at her. A genuine, non-sarcastic, disgust free, smile. She was speechless. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Honestly.”

“Delightfully witty comeback.”

Hermione flushed and turned back to face the bar, hoping the barkeep would make his way over to her soon. Until then she would endeavor to ignore the blond wizard invading her personal space. A feat which was becoming increasingly difficult as he rested his chin on her shoulder and began whispering in her ear.

“So, what is the Chosen One’s favorite witch doing in this filthy excuse for a drinking establishment?”

“If that is some subtle jab at my heritage you can bugger off.”

He pressed closer to her, which she wouldn’t have thought possible, but he was warm and he smelled like expensive cologne and brandy and – damnit where the hell was the bartender?!

“Granger, the only times I associate you with the word filthy are when I’m wanking to visions of your – “

She spun around, which was probably a mistake, and slapped her hand over his mouth.

“Have you been hexed? Did someone slip you a potion?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You must be completely off your trolley.”

Hermione watched in stunned disbelief as he reached up to grab the hand she’d covered his mouth with and pulled it away just enough to slowly suck a finger in between his lips. She felt the shivers go down the entire length of her spine as he flicked his tongue across her flesh.

“H-honestly.”

He grinned, the shit eating type, and laced his fingers through hers before leaning back into her. 

“Mostly sober, love.”

“Is this some elaborate dare?”

He just shook his head and began to speak over her shoulder, ordering a variety of snobbish cocktails before he glanced down at her, a questioning look on his face.

“What?”

“What are you drinking, witch?”

“You’re not buying me a drink, Malfoy. Heaven knows what you’d think I owed you in return.”

“Scared, my little Gryffindor?”

She glared at him and spun back around, quickly placing her order with the barkeep.

“And I’m not your little anything.” She bit out over her shoulder.

His hot breath hit her ear. “Not yet.” 

“Back  _ off _ Malfoy.” She tried once more to push him off her but again, he retaliated by pressing into her and all but tucking her into his larger frame. When his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her even closer, she knew something had to be wrong with him.

“That’s it, we need to get you to a medi-witch. You’ve obviously been cursed or had your memory altered.”

She grabbed the arm around her waist and with a crack disapparated the two of them back to her flat. Malfoy stumbled with a muttered curse and she quickly disentangled herself from him before stomping over to her medicine cabinet where she held an assortment of potions. Muttering to herself she missed the look of absolute stunned amusement on Malfoy’s face.

“Granger, I figured I’d have to make three or four more attempts before you invited me to your home.”

He turned to her as she stomped back out into the living room, a variety of potion bottles in her arms, wand held firmly in her free hand. When she pointed it at him, he backed up slightly.

“Sit.”

“So bossy.” He snarked, even though he complied, making himself comfortable on her sofa with a sprawl that just screamed entitled rich boy.

“Did someone slip you something? What is your full name? How many fingers am I holding up? What was your best subject fifth year? How many – “

Hermione stopped abruptly when he put two fingers over her lips to silence her.

“I am Draco Lucius Malfoy, no one slipped me anything, you aren’t holding up any fingers, and how would you know what my best subject was, you ridiculous swot?” He traced the lines of her mouth with the pads of his fingers. “God the things I want to do to this mouth.” Pulling his lower lip into his teeth he looked at her. “I want to fucking  _ defile _ you. I want you absolutely filthy for me, Granger.”

“I’m fairly certain you find me plenty filthy already, Malfoy.” The smirk on his face was  _ not _ attractive. It  _ wasn’t. _ “Honestly, it hardly seems necessary to…add to it.”

He tsked. “Granger, Granger, Granger. This is an entirely different type of dirty.” 

She watched as he traced his own mouth with a long, graceful finger and had to shake herself. How had she never noticed his lips before?  _ Probably because he was always saying such vile things to you it was hard to appreciate the source _ , argued her logic. 

“I’d have to be insane to participate in whatever bizarre fantasy you’re attempting to fulfill. No doubt the idea of having some…muggle-born slave is a common fantasy for you and your peers, but it’s not happening.”

“You don’t want to be my filthy little mudblood whore?”

The loud crack that echoed through her flat when she slapped him surprised her almost as much as the shock she felt at those words. For some reason she wasn’t actually expecting him to say it.

He worked his mouth before turning back to her. Before she knew it, he had snatched her wrists in his hands and tugged her onto the couch with him. Hermione struggled, shocked at his wiry strength. “Merlin, Granger it was a fucking joke. Stop trying to murder me.”

“You deserve it!”

A chuckle escaped him and Hermione once more attempted to pull away from his grasp. The struggle that ensued resulted in her on her back, arms pinned next to her head with a very amused Slytherin hovering over her. 

“Ever had hate sex?”

“You’re the only person I hate.” She spat, ignoring the warmth coiling in her belly. He smelled so bloody  _ good _ , but the smirk that played on his lips, those annoyingly beautiful lips, was infuriating. So infuriating, in fact, that something in Hermione snapped. She was going to wipe that smirk off his face if it was the last thing she did. To that end, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled herself up off the couch with her hips until she was flush against him. That stupid smirk solidified, and before she had time to think about it she pressed her lips to his forcefully. The kiss was quick, and hard, and Hermione wondered briefly if she’d gone insane before pulling back and glaring at him.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“There’s my filthy girl.” He pushed his hips into hers, pressing her back down into the cushions of the sofa, and yanked her hands over her head before licking a stripe up her neck. When he reached her ear he tongued it briefly, causing shivers to run up her spine, before he moved to capture her lips in another searing kiss. Their tongues clashed, and his mouth slanted across hers as though he were devouring her, pulling a moan from her throat. He released her wrists and moved his hands down to cup at her breasts, roughly squeezing them through her sweater while he rolled his pelvis against hers, the evidence of his arousal obvious.

Hermione’s hands gripped his hair, yanking his head back so she could bite at his throat and run her tongue over his adam’s apple. He tilted, resting his weight on one arm, and slid his other hand up her shirt while she explored his collar bone with her tongue. She bit down and he hissed, retaliating by ripping the cup of her bra off her breast and pinching the exposed nipple hard. Gasping at the sensation of almost-pain, she brought his mouth back to hers and forcefully began removing his coat.

They struggled to disrobe for a few moments, lips remaining locked in a battle for dominance until he was in his shirtsleeves and she was in her bra, sweaters and blazers tossed wily-nilly about the room. If Hermione was surprised to find herself on her couch, bra half off and tits out with Draco Malfoy hovering over her she certainly wasn’t going to let him know. Instead she reached up for his shirt, desiring nothing more than to rip the buttons off what was undoubtedly a ridiculously expensive article of clothing, only to find him wrestling with her again. His eyes darkened as she struggled, and he quickly overpowered her, pinning her arms under his knees while he settled himself on her stomach.

“Lovely little tits you have.” He pulled her bra down letting both of her breasts out and she felt herself blushing. She squirmed in an effort to escape but quickly realized she was just giving him more of a show so instead she stopped moving altogether and glared at him.

Not breaking eye contact, he licked the tip of his index finger and then lowered it to brush against her nipple, watching as it pebbled before pinching it, pulling an involuntary sigh from between her lips. Hermione closed her eyes and arched up into him as he continued to play with her breasts.

“I want to fuck these and come all over you.” His fingers gripped her flesh almost painfully before he leaned over and licked around a nipple.

Hermione arched and struggled as she tried to free her arms, increasingly distracted by the attention being paid to her sensitive nipples. He appeared to be enjoying her attempts to free herself until she was finally so frustrated she growled.

“Damnit, Malfoy, I want to touch you. Let me go.”

He only quirked a brow at her before he lifted his knees off her arms. Her fingers had gone tingly, but she didn’t care, moving quickly to rip at his shirt, gaining an obscene amount of satisfaction from his annoyed glare when she pulled off a few buttons and they bounced across the floor. She smirked at him in return before sitting up slightly to run her tongue across his chest.

“Fuck, Granger, you’re exceeding expectations.” She paused and looked up at him.

“You had expectations?”

“No talking wench, this is hate sex.” He grabbed her chin and licked her mouth in order to make his point before he shrugged out of his shirt. Hermione took the opportunity to remove her bra while she took in the sight of Malfoy’s chest. There were pale silver scars that crisscrossed his lean form and she swallowed as she reached out to run her finger over one. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him before she could. 

“Hate sex, love.” His voice was soft and for a strange moment they just stared at each other. Then he licked her forearm, running his tongue over  _ her _ scars before releasing her and pushing her back down with a firm hand over her sternum.

He kissed her hard, then slid down her body, biting and nibbling at her flesh. She dragged her hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp while she let him seduce her with his mouth. When he reached the top of her jeans, he ran a hand over her stomach and looked up at her. Hermione raised her hips and he smirked before using his deft fingers to quickly rid her of her trousers, yanking them forcefully down her hips, raising up on his knees to pull them off her completely, knocking the lamp off the table in the process.

“Careful!”

“I’ll buy you another one.” He tossed her pants across the room before returning to his position between her thighs where he ran his knuckles over her core, an action which was quickly followed by a moan of approval. “You’ve soaked through your knickers you dirty girl.”

“Bugger it, Malfoy.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

Hermione blinked at the implication. “I’ve never – I mean that’s – “

“Not tonight then.” He whispered before he pulled her knickers down and attached his mouth to her clit forcing a short moan to escape. She gripped his hair as he continued to toy with her, licking and nibbling, before he slid a finger into her wet heat. As he teased her and pumped in and out, her hips began to thrust up rhythmically. Her back arched and she threw her head back as he wound her up, her fingers frantically tugging on his hair, her world ready to shatter, before he abruptly stopped.

“Wha-“

His fingers were shoved in her mouth before she could finish her complaint. 

“Suck, Granger.”

She glared at him, but complied, sucking on his fingers and swirling her tongue around them as she licked up her own essence. When he pulled them out, he dragged them across her lower lip. 

“The things I want to do to this mouth.” 

He kissed her again, dipping his tongue in to taste her, and Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. He sucked a path to her ear.

“Too much kissing, not enough fucking.” He abruptly sat up and flipped her over so she was on her stomach. He lifted her hips and she was soon on her hands and knees in front of him. Fingers ran down her spine and over the globes of her ass before a resounding smack echoed through the room. Hermione looked over her shoulder with a glare.

“That’s for slapping me earlier.” He met her eyes while he worked on his pants. The sight of him pulling his belt free and lowering the zipper dampened her annoyance.

“You deserved it.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” Hermione felt her lips twitch and she quickly faced front.

“Get on with it Malfoy, honestly you’re taking – “ she cut off with a gasp as he pressed into her, “ – forever.” The last word came out as a groan.

“Such an impatient little witch.” Long fingers bit into her hips as he pulled back and thrust into her again with so much force that she had to reach out and grab the arm of the sofa for stability. Another hard thrust had her eyes rolling back into her head and she felt her skin raise up with goosebumps as he found his rhythm.

A hand grabbed her hair and yanked, pulling her head back so he could whisper filth in her ear as he kept up his brutal pace. “A golden witch with a golden pussy. Merlin, Granger, you could rule worlds with this.” His teeth sank into her neck, pulling a keening moan from her. “I want to fill you up and make a mess of you. Turn you into my little slut. Fuck you until you can’t stand.” She whimpered and he released her hair allowing her head to drop back down. The glide of his cock in and out, the friction and the angle had her nearly mindless with want and the filthy dirty talk only added to her need. When he raised up again to grab her hips and thrust into her particularly hard she cried out.

“Beg for it. Beg me with those gorgeous lips.” His fingers found her clit and he gave it pinch to punctuate his command as he continued to pound into her.

“Please.” It was muttered into her arm and he obviously wasn’t impressed because he landed another well timed slap on her bum.

“Try harder.”

“Fuck. Please, Malfoy.” She arched her back as her hips met his. “I need – please.”

The hand on her clit began to stroke her in earnest and she felt him once again drape himself across her back. His pace increased and Hermione began panting with each breath as she felt the tightening sensation in her abdomen grow with each rough pass of his cock against her flesh. One last press on her clit as he slammed into her hard enough to hit her cervix had her going over the edge and she screamed out his name as she came. He thrust into her raggedly a few more times before a series of expletives spilled from his mouth at the same time she felt his hot come spill into her. 

When he collapsed on top of her he was careful to situate himself in such a way so that she wasn’t being smothered, his arms cradling her. Feeling oddly satisfied, she closed her eyes before she spoke.

“I don’t actually hate you, you know.”

“I know.”

“So that wasn’t hate sex.”

He shifted behind her and Hermione turned around to face him. “Malfoy, if that wasn’t hate sex, then what was it?”

“A dare.” He didn’t meet her eyes and she felt her stomach drop.

“You’re a fucking prick.” She sat up and crawled over him, debating whether she should knee him in the balls on her way.

“Not like that. Stop.” He grabbed her hand, but she swatted him away, nearly falling off the couch in her haste to get dressed. “Hermione, stop.”

She knew there were tears in her eyes when she swung around. “Get out.”

“Fuck, don’t cry.” He stood and tried to wrap her arms around her. When she shoved him, they somehow both ended up back on the couch. He trapped her with his legs while she continued to wriggle in her efforts to escape until she finally resorted to beating his chest with her fist. “Will you just – ow – listen to me?”

“I think you’ve said quite enough.” She hated that it came out as a sob.

“Clearly I haven’t. Blaise dared me to talk to you. To…to tell you.”

“Tell me what, that I’m a filthy little mudblood slut? Ugh, I can’t believe you!”

“No, fuck. Hermione.” He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. “We’ve been working together for three years. You can’t honestly believe I think any of that. Use your enormous brain.”

She blinked at the expression on his face. He looked almost devastated with worry and her logic took over, forcing her to conclude she may have overreacted. “You’re calling me Hermione.”

“That’s your name, you idiot.”

“Malfoy, what did Blaise dare you to tell me?”

He colored slightly. “Mostly he dared me to get off my lazy spoiled ass – his words, by the way – and ask you out on a date so I could tell you about the embarrassingly large crush I’ve developed on you. Being a Malfoy, however, I had to trick you into it.”

“You do realize this doesn’t constitute a date.”

He glared at her. “The dare was to ask. Honestly, Granger, does sex make you stupid?”

“So this wasn’t some…bizarre muggle-born sex slave humiliation fantasy dare?”

“That’s a lot of words, but no.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Although, the idea does have merit.”

“Well, you still lost.”

“What?”

“Announcing that the dare was to ask me out doesn’t actually constitute asking me out. Blaise will no doubt be horribly disappointed.” His shock at her statement distracted him enough that she was able to get up off the couch. 

“Wait one bloody minute.”

Shrugging into his discarded shirt, she turned to look at him with a smirk before buttoning the thing closed haphazardly. 

“Well?”

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman.” He sat up and rubbed his face before looking at her. “Hermione, would you like to have dinner with me on Friday?”

“Yes, Draco, that would be lovely.”

“Wonderful, now give me my shirt.”

“Come and get it.”

Glaring he stood to reach out for her, but with a squeal and a giggle she ran off, forcing him to chase her into the bedroom where they remained for the rest of the evening.


End file.
